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This story isn't about the possibility that God and Christ are real, to me they are. This story is about the people who I knew, my immediate family, as I know and knew them before they died and how they related to me, and my belief that if I see them again, it may be as different people, who are not necessarily a part of my immediate family.
You are possibly going to think this story is a bit weird, or that I am a bit weird because it mixes facts with ideas, but that is simply the reality which I have been forced to accept. Reality, once you accept and know God, is not the same as reality without God. For example, if you meet someone who looks the same as someone you know, but is a different colour, without God there is no possibility they are the same person and share one soul. With God it is a possibility.
It is going to sound strange, because I believe I am unique in having an insight which nobody else has. That is the meaning of the word unique, one of a kind, and that is something Mary would have been pedantic about. She had a well developed intelligent sense of humour For example I grew up thinking facecious meant ironic, because if I said, "Are you serious", she would often reply, "No I'm being facecious".
It wasn't by accident that she was top in English, French and Latin in her first year at high school, and she had high expectations of her family, but her love meant that she put no pressure on us at all to excel, merely making opportunities available to us. Indeed, my sister and I were lucky to have our parents.
If you can believe it, I had no idea for many years what my mother looked like. I'm speaking here about the time before I was born, because even though I may not be alone in having an expectation of my birth, after I came to accept that God is real, some time in 1982, after my father died, I began to remember my former life, and realized who I was. I am definitely the only person who has any experience of a life outside this world, and that is one of the things which makes me unique.
If you ask me where it began, I would say again with God, and with the Tuatara. The Tuatara is an animal which is not a lizard, but lived in the time of the Dinosaur, over 66 million years ago. It is still alive having survived the extinction of the dinosaur, and 'seen' the evolution of mammals and humans. One swam 26 miles to an island off the coast of the place I live, which is no mean feat for an animal about eight inches long. Since they all laid eggs, there being no male of female of the species, it survived on its own and established a population which exists there to this day.
It is possible that one tuatara, my father, offered a prayer to god saying "If there is a God, may I have my son again in another lifetime", at least that is what God told me. That was possibly the beginning.
If you had to ask me what else is unique about me I would say genetic engineering. Genetic engineering certainly is a reality. There are soya beans which are "roundup" resistant. There are glow in the dark Zebra fish which have been patented. I'm opposed to it because I don't see the point. Why meddle with something we don't understand. You could say civilisations which have done so have all been hurt by it, but that is on other planets, and we know for certain that that is the case.It was at the time of the first Emperor of China in about 221 B.C. that I decided that it may be time to attempt to start genetic engineering secretly on this planet. It was not to be. All this work, from pumpkins which were introduced in Italy, to spinach which came to China, both of which contain essential dietry iron, has been done outside this planet.
DNA is tiny, much smaller than a cell, yet to engineer it you must cut it into segments and join it back together. Having worked at this since before the time of the Dinosaurs, engineering them, I have an intimate knowledge of the eye of the T-Rex. It could only see shape through movement having only cones in its eye but no T-Rex eyes have survived, so this proves nothingf.
My Parents
Before I begin I would like to say a little bit about my mother. Mary was the wisest, most gentle, understanding and caring mother anyone could ever hope to have. Indeed both my parents were well qualified, and proved to be the best parents ever because they took their role seriously.
If you believe this is true, and there is no way to prove it, I was anxious to be born, and visited my father before he even married my mother. I am the youngest of two children. My sister Jennifer is 18 months older than me, but dad married the sister of a school teacher, my auntie Jess who lived about four miles down the road from dad's farm. Mary was staying with her sister when she met Tim, but before this I visited him one day, when he and his mother were in the cow shed. Dad built the cow shed himself, of concrete blocks he made by hand. One day Tim and Gig, his mother were boiling up the copper to do the washing. Dad had asked his mother to live with him on the farm. She had lived on the Mangarangi road on the other side of the Kaituna River with (her brother) for a time after the death of her husband Larry, and during the war. Tim and Peg, his sister had attended Paengaroa primary school. Peg had a job as a land girl during the war, just down the road on a farm owned by Jack Ford, near the mouth of the Kaituna River.
This is the painting, Christ in the House of HIS Parents, by Sir John Everett Millais
Images
You may recognise some of the other people in this painting I also know. The figure on the left I recognise as Brian Whitmore, who was my best friend at primary school, and whose parents bought a farm which shared a back boundary with my parent's farm on the Maniatutu road. Here Brian is Jesus's friend, and later on bought the cane weaving business Jesus inherited from his father, from Jesus for two year's income. Jesus was not poor.
Brian went away to St Kentigan's boarding school when we started high school, and I went to board at Hamilton Boy's High School. At St Kent's he would have met and known another Te Puke boy, will Pendergrast, whose mother is the next figure at the back left. In front is my auntie Jess, who we are to believe is the mother of Jesus in the picture, but the image in this painting looks more like Bart Simpson, the cartoon character than it does Jesus, or his brother James. Then there is the father of Jesus, and Will Pendergrast himself. Will and I became close friends at high school when we all lost our boarding allowances and returned to Te Puke in 1972. We shared a flat in our seventh form year, probably one of the biggest mistakes I ever made in my life because that decision probably ended my education and prevented me from going on to become the architect I always dreamed of being, and just assumed I would become.
Would it be arrogant of me to say I painted this picture? Working in my secret place in space, not knowing who was in the picture, apart from my own father, but using my own arms to model from? Such is the power of God, who you should know undoubtedly exists, and so is the story of Jesus in the bible true.
If you believe this is true, and there is no way to prove it, I was anxious to be born, and visited my father before he even married my mother. I am the youngest of two children. My sister Jennifer is 18 months older than me, but dad married the sister of a school teacher, my auntie Jess who lived about four miles down the road from dad's farm. Mary was staying with her sister when she met Tim, but before this I visited him one day, when he and his mother were in the cow shed. Dad built the cow shed himself, of concrete blocks he made by hand. One day Tim and Gig, his mother were boiling up the copper to do the washing. Dad had asked his mother to live with him on the farm. She had lived on the Mangarangi road on the other side of the Kaituna River with her brother for a time after the death of her husband, and during the war. Tim and Peg, his sister had attended Paengaroa primary school.
Michelangelo - Christ the Judge - Last Judgement - Sistine Chapel
The Last Judgment is a fresco by Michelangelo on the altar wall of the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City. It took four years to complete and was executed from 1537 to 1541. Michelangelo began working on it three decades after having finished the Sistine Chapel ceiling.
As Tim and Gran boiled the copper that morning, I appeared, as a baby of, I'm not sure here, but probably several months, possibly six, possibly more or less, sitting on a concrete door post. I can't recall which one noticed me first, and pointed me out to the other. By that time, when they looked again, and saw me I was sitting in the boiling water in front of them, possibly two feet away. Either of them could have reached out and touched me, but they didn't try. I have no idea what they thought. It is possible they both knew who I was, Tim's son, and possible they both also knew I was Jesus. I never discussed this incident with either of them, although Tim would have been reminded of it every time he went to the cow shed, even though by the time I was born for real he had the electricity on, and had an agitator washing machine, and had no need to boil up the copper in order to wash the clothes and sheets. This was because all the time I knew him, until he died on 12th February 1982, I don't think I believed that God was real, and he never said that he believed in God either, and never gave a reason. He believed that "when you die, that's it". He was an athiest.
As I recall it now, the water was just coming to a simmering boil, and was frothy with the bubbling steam, soft and felt slightly warmer than my blood temperature, possible 100 degrees Fahrenheit, possibly a degree or two cooler than that. It was just a degree or two warmer than my blood temperature. I stayed only a few seconds, a minute or less, and then I was back where I had resided since my "death". I was back on, or rather in, planet Pluto.